Love of a Murderers Daughter
by MaddHatter12
Summary: Rory Underwood proves to herself and others that she's a capable FBI agent despite her fathers past. When she joins the BAU team and gets to know them personally over the years, will she let her feelings get in the way? REIDxOC *one-shots mostly*
1. That's A Government Issued Gun

**My first shot at a Criminal Minds fanfic!**  
><strong>I am in absolute love with Criminal Minds, since my friend got me interested.<strong>

**And, obviously, I fell head over heels for Spencer Reid.**

**So the creative juices started flowing, and somehow I got here!**

**Hope everything works out!**

_August 2005~~_

Red walls of velvet surrounded a dozen girls bedazzled in silver, pink and gold jewels. All each had their own well-sized mirrors with 8 orbs of lights surrounding them, being the only source of light throughout the entire room besides a small dark shaded lamp in the far corner that was no bigger than a medium sized vase. All of the girls had their hair curled and their lips a beautiful sheen of dark pink; teeth bleached, eyes lined with dark make-up that didn't over-do their looks. Blondes, red heads, auburns, midnights, and brunettes each pushed one another out of the way to get to their mirrors.

Every mirror had a name, a small plank of wood decorated with their name and stickers and glitter, each showing every individuals artistic talent. When a new girl arrived, she was handed a key to the run down building, a key to the large walk-in closet for their costumes, and a plank of wood to take home and decorate. It would go above their mirror and it would be like a label—no one but the girl named is to use the mirror.

Smoke was filling the room slowly, some girls having lit up the moment they were off stage. Others sat down and drank water, dabbing their foreheads of sweat and playing with the black tassels that hung from the walls and silk curtains in front of the one window. Some swatted the smoke out of their faces and began applying more make-up, the routine touch-up before they knew they had to go back out.

The final performer finally entered the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a deep breath as she leaned against the mahogany door covered in sharpie autographs, with dates numbering each name. Final goodbyes of former dancers. The girls had the most touched up of all curls. Most of the girls had strictly one color of hair—natural or dyed to perfection—but this girl had streaks upon streaks of browns and blonde in her natural mouse brown hair. All the other showgirls looked at her when she shut the door and she smiled at them with both her deep blue eyes and her pearly whites.

"Honey, really, you don't need to rush yourself to the dressing room. Take your bows, the crowd adores you." A dark skinned woman told her, walking over to her and patting her hand.

"I know Vi, I know. You all just disappear so fast that I can't keep up." The girl raved, allowing her friend to lead her to her mirror at the very end. She waved her hand in front of her face, pushing smoke out of the way.

She coughed and Vi sat her down in her seat, "God—really ladies? Smoking right before we go back on?"

"It relieves stress." A voluptuous redhead cooed as smoke dripped from her lips. The girl cringed and allowed Vi to start preparing more make-up for her. She began touching up her hair, playing with curls and replacing them to frame her face more properly.

"Vi can you unzip me?" she muttered quickly, looking up at the cast iron grandfather clock that stood beside her. She stood up and lifted her arms up so it would be easier for her costume to unzip.

The woman nodded and unzipped it, "Margaret, fetch Aurora's emerald flapper—ladies it's time to get movin'! Get your buddy and get a changin'!" Vi called out to them, peeling back the sparkling fabric from Aurora's back.

Noise level raised a notch as they all began bustling around, and a petite platinum blonde unlocked the closet across the room, unleashing every showgirl inside to grab their costume. She came back with a long emerald green sparkling flapper. Margaret handed Vi the dress and she helped Aurora step into it.

All the dancers were finished getting dressed and were just now finishing their make-up when some of the girls began talking about how important the number was. One girl was checking the paper, her manicured nail glued to the slip, running up and down the soft print. She giggled and turned back to the dark red haired girl, who had just lit up another smoke.

"Tonight is the night! I'm so excited!" she squealed, spinning around in her two-piece emerald flapper set. A brunette woman with the characteristics of a Samoan grabbed her and began fixing her eyeliner, making it darker, thicker. The red haired woman laughed.

"Don't get too excited now, or you'll smell like a mess when you go out there." She laughed gruffly, standing up and spraying the girl with a bottle of flowery perfume. The girl coughed and threatened to sneeze until the Samoan girl stuck her finger under her nose.

Vi sighed and walked over to the red haired woman and pulled the cigarette out of her mouth, "Speak for yourself Claire." Forcefully, she smashed the cigarette butt into a dirty, stained crystal ashtray. Claire sneered at her and went to fix her make-up in her own mirror at the front of the room.

Aurora watched all the girls talking giddily about tonight, and the next performance and how thrilling it was. Her brows furrowed as Margaret started putting in her earrings, pushing Aurora's curls out of the way and then placing them back before in utter faultlessness. She reached onto the table and grabbed the brush for the eyeliner and sat down next to the confused starlet.

"What's so special about tonight?" she asked the petite girl beside her. She giggled and looked at Aurora via the mirror.

"Our VIP guests are a group o' cops. So—look up—you better dance your heart out little Sleepin' Beauty." Margaret said, her voice high-pitched, like that of a little girl. Her southern accent made everyone smirk a little when she spoke, her pronunciation of words sometimes unorthodox and off putting, but Aurora found her good to talk to. She looked up and the girl fixed the thin line of liner on her bottom lid.

When Margaret mentioned the cops, Aurora's eyes flew up to the corner of her mirror where a FBI badge hung loosely, dangling and shining in the light for all to see. The southern gal patted her shoulder.

"This is gonna be special fer you, ain' it? Dancin' for men your brother worked for! How exhiliratin'!" she grinned, also looking up at the badge.

"Her brother worked for the FBI, stupid, not the local PD." Claire snorted. Margaret huffed and pouted her big pink lips.

"Well whatever he worked for, it's impor'ant to her. So we will leave it at that." She hissed, standing up with her hand on her small waist. She scurried over to a table covered in head pieces and grabbed a silver band with a pearl white feather to place over Aurora's head.

The thing about the badge though, only Aurora knew about of course, was that it was, in some instances, fake. And not in the 'I-bought-this-at-a-dress-shop-sort-of-way'; it was real as the sun was bright. The badge just never belonged to her brother. Her brother was dead, that was true, being shot by a man who thought Aurora's father had killed his daughter, but her brother was never a cop. Aurora was though—and still is.

Aurora Underwood, informally known as Rory, worked for FBI in Quantico D.C., across town from their Burlesque Hall. She was sent there on the job to moonlight as a dancer to figure out whether drug trafficking, and maybe even human trafficking were involved in the business. Reports of lovely European women coming here for jobs that were good enough to be hired, and good enough to be sold, were being taken away after auditions and shipped off to the black market. So far, little evidence was apparent for her to find anything about that, but the drug trafficking was coming along nicely, having taken over 700 pictures of one of the owners paying a dealer and even setting up a line of cocaine for himself.

She was hoping that, soon, her job would be done. Her friend Jason had suggested her for the job and she knew that the next time she saw him on the job she would kill him. He worked for a completely different sector of the FBI, but his connections seemed too much for hers.

After getting to know Violet and Margaret though, she was determined to finish the job and finish it completely, seeing it through to the end. Starting in May of 2005, and the club not starting it's fresh dancing season until late July of 2005, she had a lot of time during rehearsals to get to know them all.

And a boost for her ego was that she didn't have to have help to get accepted. No extra agent on the inside. She auditioned and got in based on her own talent, from years and years of dance lessons from her childhood in California. Before her father was accused of multiple murders, which maybe one day she'd talk more about. It made her interested in the FBI and working to stop people like her father, whether she believed he was a murderer or not.

But the police were at the Burlesque Hall? To her it was no big deal. No cops knew her, so she couldn't get nervous, and to her, cops weren't very exciting to begin with. In fact, she thought they were, for the most part, pigs.

Margaret gingerly placed the ring upon her head and played with the feather until it was in the right place. She squealed once it was and squeezed Aurora's shoulders.

"Oh ya' look beautiful! Those men are goin' to just _love_ ya'!"

"Okay ladies! It's show time!" Vi called before pulling open the door. A hush fell over all of them and Margaret helped Aurora stand up and pull her silver shoes on. They rushed after the other girls and Margaret did her best to keep up with the leading lady, fixing her hair.

"Now remember, you come in from upstage left jus' after the lights go out fer the third time, and you're singin' Somethin's Got A Hold On Me, 'kay?" she reminded her. Aurora just nodded and allowed her eyes to dart around the dark backstage.

"Got it Mags, now get out there." She mumbled, pushing Margaret forward as she stuck the feather into her own band in her hair. The girl blew her a kiss and rushed out onto her place on stage. Aurora thought it was a miracle that all the girls could find their places in the dark. Few lights were on around them and they all came from candles up high on the velvet walls and of the church high ceilings, and also came from the candles on each individual small table.

The spotlights flash on once, and two beats were played over the speakers, gathering a few cheers from the crowd. The girls on stage rocked their hips from side to side and then the lights went out. They all changed position and did it again when the lights flashed back on and off. More cheers. The lights came on a third time and then went off. Now she had to go. Quietly, she was able to rush into the middle of the stage and strike a pose. Slowly, the lights became brighter and she put on her performance girl smile and lifted her head to look at the audience.

Musical notes practically exploded from her mouth as she began singing and the others sang her back up. The music picked up and the dancing became exciting when they tore off the long slip at the bottom of Aurora's emerald green dress revealing a very, very short flapper. While they danced, Aurora kept her eyes out for the cops.

* * *

><p>"Of all places to take us, Gideon takes us to a Burlesque Bar." FBI Agent Derek Morgan laughed, settling back into his velvet armchair at the very back of the smoky building.<p>

Having just gotten off of work, FBI Agent Jason Gideon had decided to take his men out to see a good old-fashioned show without strippers. Along with him he brought a well-liked and sought after man, Derek Morgan, and a very reluctant, meek little Doctor—Dr. Spencer Reid. Morgan was positive he saw his friend having a mini asthma attack from all the smoke in the room.

"Actually this one is called a Burlesque Hall. The building is built in such a fashion to mimic the set of an old 1930's English hall where orchestras would play—it's been revamped and the bar was probably added in later, seeing as how the wood looks new and spotless." The young Dr. Reid mumbled, placing his satchel in his lap, the strap still looped around his shoulder. Morgan smirked and rolled his eyes.

A busty girl bent over beside them and handed Morgan a beer, placed Gideon's Bloody Mary in front of his empty seat, and handed Reid his mug of hot coffee with extra packets of sugar and some creamer. They thanked her and they each sipped their drinks.

"So why did Gideon decide to take us here?" Reid asked after he cringed at his sip and added two more packets of sugar. Morgan shrugged and swigged his beer. He set it down and swallowed his large gulp of alcohol.

"He just said it would be fun to hang out with us after work. So he suggested we come here. Why, you feel uncomfortable, genius?" he teased. The awkward doctor shook his head and tapped his feet as Gideon approached his chair.

He sat down with a grunt and a sigh, grabbing his Bloody Mary, "Ahhh…they have very nice bathrooms here." He muttered monotonously before taking a bite of his celery and sipping his Bloody Mary gingerly.

"Hey, how come Hotch isn't here?" Morgan asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

Gideon looked up at him and shrugged, pressing his lips together, "Said he wanted to go home and spend time with his wife. More than we can say."

Morgan laughed as the spotlights on the empty stage began to dim until they were off. Everyone got silent and Reid shifted in his seat so he could get a better look at the actual stage. He could see the silhouettes of girls moving onto the stage fluidly, getting ready for their next number. Morgan cracked his knuckles together and licked his lips, preparing himself for the amazing presentation he was about to see. Gideon smirked at the both of them and sipped his Bloody Mary again, biting into his celery quietly.

Lights turned on, showed the girls, turned off, darkness. This repeated two more times, each time the girls were in different poses. When the lights began to fade from black, all three saw a woman in a more elaborate set up of costume. The same emerald green, though a bit darker, and her dress was longer, reaching to the floor. She lifted her head and smirked at the audience before opening her mouth to sensually sing.

Gideon's smirk widened when she finished her first line, and the dramatic pause enveloped them. Reid's brows rose high on his forehead, and Morgan let out a quiet 'hot damn' when she belt out the next note. The beat picked up and they all started dancing elaborately, pulling off the long skirt of her dress so reveal a shorter one, allowing her to dance with them.

After much clapping and whistling from Morgan, the number ended with a grandiose pose with all the girls surrounding the singer. The crowd went wild and stood up to cheer, including Morgan, who went crazy, shouting out bravo. He laughed, collapsing back into his chair. His smiling face turned to Gideon, thanking him for inviting them.

"Will there be an encore? Cause I would like to see a little more of that." He asked, pointing at the stage. Gideon stood up and stretched.

"There's time to meet the dancers, and then there is one last number—a solo for the singer." He sighed, rubbing his back.

"Are you all right, Gideon?" Reid asked when Gideon walked around his chair, heading towards the bathroom.

"I'm fine, Reid. The Bloody Mary's here just run right through me. Call over the singer! I hear she enjoys men in uniform." He teased, rushing away from them.

Reid opened his mouth to protest, but the slam of Morgan's beer glass onto the table made him jump. Morgan grinned and clapped once or twice, "Sounds like a plan! Let's get her over here, see if she can give you a lap dance!"

"She's a burlesque dancer, Morgan, they don't strip or sell themselves to individuals for money." Reid sighed, shifting in his seat again. Morgan lifted his arm up to the sky and snapped, getting the attention of a man who looked to be in charge, a rather homosexual looking man.

He rushed over, "May I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm Special Agent Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid, we're with the FBI and we would like to request a viewing with the singer who was just up on stage." He said to the man, smirking at him so he would understand the meeting wasn't for business purposes. The man just smiled and nodded.

"You called over just the right person, I happen to be the girls' personal assistant, let me go get her." He grinned, hurrying away through the tables towards the stage where men were helping the dancers down to spend time with them.

Up on the stage, the singer was kneeling down in front of two women who had been sitting in front, she seemed to be chatting with them and talking about normal things, laughing and smiling. The man appeared at her side and tapped on her shoulder, pulling her to feet. He pointed through the darkness towards Morgan and Reid and the girl followed his finger. Squinting towards them, he whispered something in her ear and she turned to him in surprise. Without question she was pushed towards the edge of the stairs and two of the male waiters grabbed her arms and helped her down.

Sauntering her way through the crowd, she proudly paraded herself over to their lounge area and set her hands on her hips, examining the two of them. She smiled at Morgan who was smirking up at her cavalierly.

"You boys in blue have requested a meet-and-greet?" she asked, making sure she was at the right table. Morgan nodded, "Sure have. I'm Derek Morgan, this is my colleague Spencer Reid."

"DOCTOR Spencer Reid." He corrected, sort of waving his fingers at her pleasantly. She nodded letting Morgan kiss her hand as she said, "Aurora."

Biting her lip, she pushed a strand of brown-blonde hair out of her face and sat down in his lap. Hesitantly, Reid lifted up his pointer finger, exclaiming, "Being called boys in blue refers to us as cops…we're FBI agents, to be precise." He said with wavering confidence.

Morgan had already begun to play with the sparkles on her dress when she looked over at him grinning. She pressed her lips together and patted Morgan's shoulder, standing up to face Reid, suddenly looking a little unnerved.

"FBI agents, huh?"

He nodded, "Th—that's right, m-m—ma'am. Special a—agents." He stuttered as she stepped closer to him.

"Don't mind him, I'm pretty sure he's afraid of women." Morgan laughed. She looked over her shoulder at Morgan and smirked. Carefully, she stepped closer and then planted herself on the arm of the armchair, playing with Reid's slicked back hair.

"Afraid of women? I don't think that's true."

Morgan laughed, "You don't believe me?"

"Well how could he be afraid of women? He's a big, bad, FBI agent…he isn't afraid of anything." She giggled, stroking his cheek. She could feel his skin growing hot, so she pulled her hand away so as not to make him feel uncomfortable.

Reid sucked in a breath and shrugged, "I have…a few f—fears actually. It's not uncommon for e—even the m—most brave of person to h—have a fear."

She laughed and nodded, playing with her hands, "I have no doubt about that, _Dr._ Reid. But your bravery, and what you do for this country—your fears pale in comparison to how brave you all are."

With a smirk, Morgan nodded in her direction, "Thank you ma'am. With your talent and patriotism, you should go into the USO." He joked.

Shaking her head she set her hand on Reid's shoulder and looked between the two of them, "I can hardly handle the compliments. Thank you. But my place is here…for different reasons." She muttered, looking around the room.

Carefully, Reid followed her line of sight and saw her staring at the manager, a large man with a baldhead and fingers covered in rings. He pursed his lips and continued to examine her. She didn't carry herself like a dancer or performer; she carried herself more like a professional—someone who works behind a desk. She seemed a little too clean cut on the inside to be working at the burlesque theater for whatever reason she was.

Out of nowhere, Gideon appeared and took them all by surprise. "What's this?" he laughed, looking at the three of them, "A lovely lady I almost missed meeting. I thought you two wouldn't have the guts to call her over and requested I get a private viewing for myself."

Morgan laughed and noticed how Aurora was just staring at Gideon in concentration, like her eyes were trying to penetrate him. Gideon just stared back and smirked. Reid definitely noticed it for he looked between them worried. He stood up and messed with his bag.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Reid, don't worry. We'll be back in a few minutes." He nodded at his two agents. He held out his hand for Aurora to take. She shook herself out of a trance and smiled at him seductively, taking his hand, allowing him to lead her around the small table in the middle of the chairs and towards a small room.

Many of these rooms were lined up along the walls, waiting for people to come in with a dancer that they could privately talk to. Actually, they could do whatever they wanted; the rooms were cleaned at the end of the night, anyway. With suspicion in their eyes, Morgan and Reid watched as Aurora took the lead and pulled Gideon into the room and slammed the door.

"Weird." Morgan muttered.

* * *

><p>"Jason what the <em>hell<em> are you doing here?" she barked, pushing his shoulder. He grunted and let her pace around the room for a moment before answering.

"I came to check up on you—"

She got back in his face, "Check up on me?" she cried out. He stuck his finger to his lips and she sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly, "if someone wanted to check up on me, you coulda just had them call me—not show up out of the blue with two of his own agents—I mean _really_ Jason, really."

He rolled his eyes, speaking calmly, "Yes, Rory, really. I wanted to check up on you myself. I work with profilers, do you think they're just gonna let me go to a Burlesque Hall alone and not get suspicious."

"Men come to these things alone all the time—and did you say _profilers_?" she growled before stopping and glaring at him.

His mouth opened and closed, not knowing what to say, "Oh my _God_…Jason! You invited profilers to come and check up on an FBI agent that's supposed to see be undercover! What were you thinking?"

"Rory, they're not gonna say anything. If you they figure out something is going on, do you really think that one of your own is going to rat you out?"

Thinking, she stayed quiet and crossed her arms, staring at him intently. She wanted this to go well, she didn't expect something like this to happen. She wanted everything to run smoothly and not have someone figure out whom she was, even if they were FBI. For her, knowing it was super secret made her feel comfortable that the word wouldn't get out.

Gideon's strong hands grabbed her shoulders, "Now, tell me how it's been going."

With a sigh, she walked over to the plush couch and sat down. Playing with a pillow she shrugged, "I already sent in my photos of the manager making a deal. No one's gotten back to me on who the dealer actually is. I want a name before I send someone in to cuff him. And I've had no further luck on whether they're selling girls to the black market."

He sat beside her and rubbed his chin, "Did you get any kind of evidence? Even personal experience?"

"During auditions I tried to follow the manager when he took one of the girls, this Swedish girl, blonde, icy blue eyes, plump lips, overall busty, like we thought they liked, with him to go somewhere. I got as far as a door way backstage, but they had closed it before I could get to it."

"Have you seen her since then?"

"No, not since then. And the doors have been locked ever since. Occasionally I see the manager going in and out, but I can't figure out where the keys are—I never have time." She shrugged, thinking back on seeing the confused girl who could barely speak English be pulled alongside the manager. Guys moving sets got in her way and she wasn't able to get around them and through the door to follow them.

That day she wasn't very proud of herself. She didn't get much done except be accepted into the Hall. Gideon patted her knee and pulled her head towards his, kissing her temple.

"You're doing great. Keep up the good work."

"Thanks, Jas." She smiled weakly.

The door to the room flung open and the gay assistant poked his head in, "Aurora darling, it's time to get ready for the final performance."

She nodded and stood up, letting go of Gideon's hand. "Bye Jas." She whispered before rushing out the door.

With the grace of a swan, she flew around the tables of people towards the stage so she could mindlessly climb the stairs to enter backstage and go get ready. From behind her she could hear footsteps like someone was following her, and she hoped to God it wasn't Gideon. She didn't dare look over her shoulder. The assistant led her to the dressing room and pushed her in while the other girls, already in casual clothing, as they were not in the last number, were exiting.

Vi and Margaret were inside, in their casual clothes as well, waiting to help her into her final costume. She smiled at them and began to close the door behind her when a small voice piped up.

"Um, excuse me!" Dr. Reid called. Aurora jumped away from the door and the other girls screamed. He pushed open the doors and stared at them awkwardly. He lifted his hand up to wave.

"Hello." He muttered.

Trying to keep her cool, Aurora let out a silent breath and smiled, "Hello Spencer." She muttered, remembering his name.

She turned away from him and walked over to Vi and Margaret, who reluctantly reached for her flapper. Margaret jumped into the closet and pulled out a low-cut, dazzling purple dress, and Vi just unzipped the flapper. Aurora lifted her arms up over her head and held her hair up from her neck, looking over her shoulder at the now scarlet covered Reid.

He gulped and lifted a finger, "It's Dr.— "

"But you don't mind that I call you Spencer…do you?" she muttered, trying to sound sensual. He shook his head and coughed, "N—no, not a—at all."

The zipper on the back of her flapper finally came down, exposing her bare back. She could hear him shift and back towards the door, exclaiming quickly, "Maybe I should come back afterwards."

"Spencer, just turn away. It will be over quickly." The flapper fell to the ground as Reid spun away, facing the open door. She stepped out of the dress and into the purple one; the form fitted one that cascaded away from her form at her knees, loosening up like a mermaid's tail.

"What do you need, Spencer?"

The zip of the dress caused him to cough and Margaret and Vi stepped away from Aurora. She turned around and set her hands on her hips, checking herself out in the mirror. Wide hips, small waist, nice legs and arms; she looked quite convincing as a voluptuous dancer. "You can turn around now."

He turned to face her and just stared her in the eye. He looked between Vi and Margaret and then back to Aurora, "Can I speak to you in private? About something…private?" he asked. Aurora stayed quiet and then nodded towards the door. Vi and Margaret scurried past him, each giving him a look of suspicion, and then a look of worry when they noticed his badge and gun.

The door shut and he let out a sigh of relief. She smirked, sitting down at her table, having to re-do her make-up now.

"What is this private matter we have to talk about?"

"You don't seem like a dancer to me." He shrugged, getting it out quickly, walking up behind her. She looked at him in the reflection of the mirror and blinked.

"Excuse me?"

He started to play with his hands, emphasizing his words, "You don't have the mannerisms of a dancer. Dancers walk with this attitude that shows that they have this sort of…high authority. Not to say that dancers are overly prideful, but they walk with a kick in their step, like they can out do whatever is thrown at them. Not to say you aren't a wonderful dancer but…you seem stiff. Like this isn't your right environment."

She shrugged, "I don't know what you mean."

"You're an FBI agent." He muttered, looking up at the badge. She spun around in her seat.

"That's my brothers, he's dead." She said quickly.

"Your reaction proves that it isn't."

"And why is that Dr. Reid?" she asked, quirking a brow.

"If you weren't an FBI agent, so worried about blowing your cover, which you seem to be now, you would've calmly told me about your brother. Though I can tell that your brother is dead. But not because he was an FBI agent."

Her eyes widened and she stared him up and down. Gideon said they were profilers but this kid was out of this world. He spoke like he knew everything. She stood up and walked towards a table covered in community make-up, pretending to rummage through it. He followed her.

"I'm not trying to unnerve you, Aurora, I'm just trying to point out the obvious. If I'm the only one that can see it, everyone else is too clueless to notice." He muttered, trying to sound sure of himself.

This kid was starting to piss her off greatly; she didn't know what to say without sounding rude and further giving away her cover. She leaned on the table and didn't dare look at him, "So your theory is…because I don't _act_ like a dancer…I'm not a dancer. And because I'm sensitive about my FBI brothers death, that I'm the FBI agent? Your theories are proving to be a little wacky don't you think, Dr. Reid."

"I have an IQ of 187, I have an eidetic memory, I can read 20,000 words a minute and I have three Ph.D.s. I know enough to see that you're undercover. And that's not a bad thing. I'm—I'm on your side." He shrugged. But no one could know. Casually, she turned around and walked past him, carefully sitting down on her stool so as not to ruin any of the sequins on her dress.

Reid looked down at his hands, "I'm trustworthy. Or at least I'd like to think I am. I got here because I'm good at what I do…and I know I'm good at what I do. You don't need to admit that you're an FBI agent—because I know you are." He muttered, his voice quiet, barely audible, like he was trying to read it through his head to make sure he didn't say anything stupid.

She continued to put on her make-up, occasionally looking up at the badge. She sighed and set her make-up down, closing her eyes. They stayed quiet. He took a step towards her.

"I could tell Gideon, even though I guess he must already know, looking back at your behavior earlier. The whole BAU could keep it a secret. Even Morgan." He pointed out.

The idea of him mentioning it to anymore of the FBI sent a chill up her spine. She wanted this strictly confidential. While he rambled about precautions they could take and how they could help, she reached into a drawer of the table and pulled out her gun. When he wasn't looking she lifted it up, cocked it and stood up to point it in his face.

"Dr. Reid, I want you to listen and listen as intently as possible."

He gasped and backed away, putting his hands up in defense, "Okay."

"I don't care how good of a profiler you are. Whatever notion you have of me, of all people, being an FBI agent? Yeah, I want you to wipe those from your eidetic mind and don't ever let it come back you got that? I've spent a lot of my damn time trying to work up to where I am, and I deserve to be the lead dancer at this Burlesque Hall despite my attitude, or my stance, or my personality—or whatever you profilers like to look for. Those ticks mean nothing about me—you don't know anything about me. Now…if you don't get out of my dressing room, I'll have you and your little posse of FBI goons kicked out of his Hall and you will never be allowed back. EVER…again."

Reid was now backed up against the door, the gun pointed at his nose. He nodded and looked from the barrel of the gun to her eyes; her stone cold eyes. She smirked.

"Good boy. Now get out." She muttered, dropping her gun to her side and stepping away from him. She spun around to walk back to her desk, gazing up at her badge.

The door opened, and she expected it to close immediately, but it didn't. Instead he turned back to her and said, "After that speech, I would probably have the notion that I should believe you. But noticing your gun—a government issued gun—I don't think I will. Sorry for bothering you."

Giving her one last look and a quiet, sheepish good bye he disappeared into the hallways where the gay assistant passed him. Her eyes widened at his words and she threatened to throw something at the door and scream until the assistant popped in out of nowhere.

"Aurora—Auror—my, my who was that skinny little fellow?" he asked, stepping inside.

She glanced at him and sat down on her seat, looking back into the mirror, staring at herself, "An FBI guest who wanted one last talk with me."

"Goodness, you must've scared the virginity out of that poor boy—he looked like you had thrown him to the moon and back. Impressive."

Aurora sighed and nodded, biting her lip, "Thanks Gus."

"Hurry up and put your face on, you've got two minutes."

* * *

><p>Reid arrived back at the group of chairs and sat down. Morgan squinted at him, "Where the hell did you go?"<p>

He looked up at Gideon and Morgan, rubbing his hands on his pants, "I went to talk to Aurora."

Immediately, Gideon sat forward, "Why?"

Nervously, Reid shifted in the seat and looked between Gideon and the floor. He licked his lips, trying to find the words, "I'll—tell you later." He muttered. Gideon sat back in his seat, keeping an eye on the young agent. The lights began to dim and the crowd cheered.

They all looked towards the stage and one spotlight came on to reveal Aurora in her purple dress, her make-up completely re-done. She had her hands on her hips, waiting for a big band solo to finish before she swayed her hips back and forth singing Wheel of Fortune by Kay Starr.

Morgan smirked, "My mother loves this song."

"Don't they all." Gideon smirked.

Reid furrowed his brow and watched her sing. Her body language had changed. She seemed more fluid with her movement, walking around with a delightful, yet eloquent flow in her step that gave off her dancer cover. Reid tried not to smirk too widely, for fear of someone noticing, especially Gideon who already seemed apprehensive.

They all watched as the number finished and she received a standing ovation. After bowing, Aurora indirectly pointed at Reid and blew him a kiss, winking, her smile full of mockery.

He tried not to blush.


	2. Who Do I Need To Speak To?

**Another chapter just to amuse myself!**

**It's a very slow building of Reid and Aurora being friends.  
>He pops in to be her extra word of the wise, and somewhat factual comfort.<br>In the next few chapters I'll be getting more into Reid and Rory's relationship, and also more about her father.  
><strong>

**Hope you enjoy!  
>Read &amp; <em>REVIEW<em>**

_October 2005~~_

Kneeling down beside her mirror, looking like she was trying to hide herself from anyone that could come inside, Agent Underwood pulled her fat, government issued cell phone out of her purse. Still in her silk robes after rehearsal, and having waited until the rest of the girls left the room to go home, she was trying to secretly call one of her teammates to tell them about the day.

The case she was still working on in the Burlesque Hall had hit an all time high in the human trafficking department after already apprehending a suspected drug dealer that supplied the manager of the Hall with cocaine and heroine. Motives for the buy were still unclear, but they must've been passing it all around, gaining more and more profit. And unfortunately for the FBI, once they captured that dealer, the manager of the Hall just moved onto a new one who they were just beginning to identify.

But the human trafficking update was because two of the dancers had left. Claire, the redhead from before had left to another dance hall up in New York, and took along with her the silent Samoan girl. They had held auditions that day and two girls who had arrived were from Germany. Beautiful, tall, thin, one a blonde and the other a brunette—they were perfect targets. The manager had apparently asked them to stay behind and Aurora wanted to call in to inform her team before she made any major moves. She felt she had enough time.

On the line, having dialed already, the dial tone acted as her ticking time bomb. It was like listening to a timer that she actually wanted to blow up, to actually hear someone speak. A monotonous voice answered her, sounding delightfully familiar.

"Yes, Agent Underwood?"

"Jason?" she whispered, peeking up over the top of her vanity. No one else was in the room, but she wanted to check.

"Yes its me." He chuckled lightly.

"Jas, tell my Boss that I've just gotten a crack in the case…I'm about to make my move." She whispered again, digging into her purse to pull out a switchblade she had kept for protection.

Through the phone she could hear his chair squeak and he began to bustle around. Drawers opened and closed, papers moved around, footsteps, distant fax machines and phones, the works. "You have your gun right?" he asked, his tone serious and stoic.

Despite him not being able to see her, she still nodded when she confirmed it, her free hand slithering up to her drawer to pull out her gun. She pulled the drawer carefully so no one passing by would hear that she was still in the room. Grabbing the gun, every metallic click it made putting her on edge, she pushed the drawer closed and stood up. For a moment, she examined its dusty frame. The gun hadn't been taken out of her drawer since she had pulled it on Dr. Reid, which was good and bad. Good because she hadn't had a reason to pull it out, but bad for that same reason.

And thinking about it, she felt bad for pulling the gun on the poor kid even though she didn't want him to tell anyone or think about her being an FBI agent. Like a good boy, too, he didn't even tell Gideon—if he did, Gideon certainly wasn't bringing it up with her. So she was going to allow herself to think that no one knew.

"Who's calling? Is it another case?" a quiet voice said from the other line, most likely directed at Gideon. Gideon stayed quiet for moment, probably thinking of what to say.

"No Reid, it's just a friend." He muttered. Aurora didn't roll her eyes, she was too busy cocking the gun and advancing towards the door of the dressing room. Before she moved anywhere, she reached up and grabbed her badge, stuffing it into her robe pocket. She took very light steps, readying her firing arm and pulling the phone away from her ear.

Her brows furrowed the closer she got to the door, her eyes wide and wild, fixated on the door; no specific point, just the door in and of itself. Distantly, she could hear Gideon calling into the phone. 'Hello? Hello! Hello?' the voice repeated. But that sound meant nothing to her. When she was walking towards the door, it was because she could hear movement outside. People strolling back and forth, talking.

The phone rose up to her lips. "Jas," she muttered, "I'll call you back." Her hand clasped the phone tightly and fumbled to shut it off before dropping it to the shag carpet flooring, right on top of a pink champagne stain one of the girls had left.

Both hands now on the gun, she raised it up to eye level in case anyone was outside to attack her when she opened the door. Following protocol, she reached for the handle and pulled the door open, sticking the upper half of her body out the door, looking back and forth down the dark hallway. No one was there.

Exiting cautiously she followed the sounds of girls giggling, down a set of stairs at the end of the hallway and to the left where she could go behind the curtains where all the props and sets were. She was guessing she had to go back to where the little door was, where she had tried to follow the manager to before. Whenever she turned a corner, she would point her gun in every direction, checking for any sign of people who could be waiting for her. No one ever was.

Finally, she caught sight of the manager with the two German girls on either arm, laughing about something he had said. He had lured them towards the door, both of the girls stumbling about like they were drugged. Bending down, he unlocked the door and led the blonde one inside before turning around to reach for the hand of the brunette. Swiftly, Aurora ducked into the darkness, close enough to see and hear them.

"Come on, darlin'." He said deeply. She shook her head and took a step back, "It'z dark in dere." She muttered. He sighed and tried to reach out for her.

"Nothing to be afraid of!"

"Come inside Adelina! It'z nice and varm!" the other girl laughed stupidly from the inside.

"No thank you." The brunette girl said politely, stepping away again. The manager who she had barely gotten to know stood up, his face turning red. He stalked towards the girl and grabbed her violently by the arm.

He tugged her towards the door and she screamed, "You're going inside!" he growled.

She tried to pull away, "No! I won't! Somebody! Help!" she called out desperately, screaming and crying. Aurora glared at him and walked out of the shadows, pointing her gun directly at the manager, pulling out her badge.

"FBI! DON'T MOVE." She demanded, using her strong vocal chords to grab his attention. They both looked at her in surprise as she stepped closer and closer towards him until the end of her gun was not but two feet away from his forehead.

The scared girl quietly sobbed, make-up running down her face. The manager only looked her up and down in shock until a wave of laughter overcame him. He pulled the girl closer to him and laughed at the badge she held out next to her gun. He pointed at it and grinned.

"My dear Aurora, really? Using your brothers FBI badge and a toy gun to try and stop me? Is this a joke? Because if it is," he snickered, reaching into his coat, pulling out his own gun and pointing it at her chest, "I'm not laughing."

Terrified, the German girl let out a sob and Aurora never took her eyes off of his, "I assure you, sir, this isn't a joke. Now drop the weapon and step away from the girl." She growled.

The sound of a gun cocking came from behind her and she could feel the barrel of that gun poke through her curls and attach itself to her scalp. The deep laugh of a bodyguard erupted from behind her and she dare not let her brows rise any higher than they did. She was basically ambushed; more guards could come out of nowhere.

Pressing her lips together, she smiled at the manager and shook her head, "Even if you kill me, the FBI is already on there way here to collect you and your men. You won't get away with this." She shrugged.

The manager laughed, "Keep telling yourself that, Sleeping Beauty. You're just one measly agent that they sent out here to die because they really don't need you. It's a lost cause."

Along with his laughter, the bodyguard laughed and pressed his gun further into her scalp. The German girl let out another sob and Aurora sucked in a breath. She let out a comforting 'shhhh' directed at the girl, telling her everything will be fine. More laughter filled the air.

Out of nowhere, the sound of another gun cocking echoed throughout the stage, "D—drop your weapon, and step away from the girl!" a meek voice said.

The bodyguard looked over his shoulder and just guffawed. Aurora's eyes widened and she tried to guess who could be here. She didn't want to take her eyes off of the manager, for fear of him either firing or getting away. The fourth gunman shifted his weight nervously and spoke again, "FBI, drop your weapon and step away from the girl!"

Aurora gasped, "Dr. Reid?"

"Hey there, Aurora." He commented awkwardly.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"You called Gideon! I traced his call and we got here as quick as possible…I don't know where Gideon is, though." He explained, his voice wavering.

She furrowed her brows and smirked at the manager, "I told you back-up was coming—"

"But it appears your back-up can't hold up his own." The manager laughed. A choking sound came from behind her and she lost concentration. Her head whipped around, the bodyguard's gun pointed at her forehead while her eyes locked on the bodyguard's big hand around Reid's neck, lifting him off the ground.

"Put him down or I'll shoot!" she growled pointing her gun at the bodyguard now. The manager laughed until Aurora pulled out her switchblade and stuck it to his neck, threatening to plunge it through. He sucked in a breath and held it.

Reid's weak hands scratched at the bodyguard's wrist and the German girl cried out as the color started to drain from his face.

"I said put him down or I. Will. Shoot." She ordered, pressing the knife harder against the manager's neck while simultaneously jabbing the gun into the chest of the bodyguard.

The bodyguard laughed and looked back at Aurora. He pushed the gun against her forehead and set his finger up to pull the trigger. Her eyes followed his finger and she opened her mouth to order him again when a shot rang out from across the stage.

A bullet entered the temple of the bodyguard and he fell back into a pile of curtain ropes. Reid collapsed to his knees and clutched at his throat. Aurora, now coming back to reality, spun her arm around to point at the manager, both the gun and the knife pointed at his head. The manager's eyes grew as wide as saucers and he began to sweat. Gideon appeared from the shadows, re-cocking his gun. The barrel of his gun connected to the temple of the manager and Gideon steadied his stance.

"Drop the gun." He growled.

The manager lifted his hands up and dropped the gun to the floor, letting go of the German girl. The girl leaped away from the manager into the arms of Reid who had just stood up and finished coughing. He awkwardly held her close, patting her shoulder, looking to Gideon for the next step.

"The other girl is in that room." Aurora muttered, gesturing to the small door behind the manager where they could hear a girl crying. Reid carefully walked around all of them and managed to lure the girl out of there and to the other girl, who he escorted out.

Gideon grabbed one of the manager's hands and stuck his gun back in his holster. He pulled out his cuffs and cuffed him, beginning to whisper his Miranda Rights into his ear before tugging him across the stage, almost causing him to stumble and fall.

Tiredly, Aurora dropped her gun and switchblade to her side and let out a long awaited breath. She closed her switchblade and stuck it into her pocket, scratching her head afterwards as she walked towards the actual stage of the Hall, examining every inch of it. The case, as quickly as she had been thrown in, had quickly ended. The process was long, but it ended in mere seconds. She stepped out onto the dark stage and looked out into the audience.

By the door, Gideon spoke with Aurora's head honcho, Special Agent Harold Barker. The rest of Gideon's team had gathered around them, including Dr. Reid and Special Agent Derek Morgan. She sighed and scratched her arm, trudging down the steps.

"Barker!" she called to him. Harold turned to look at her, as did the rest of Gideon's agents, staring at her oddly. But Harold smiled and walked towards her, extending a hand.

"Good work Agent Underwood, it took a while but you got the job done."

"Have you identified the other drug dealer?" she asked, setting her hands on her hips.

"Yes we have, he is identified as a local heroin dealer Titus Mahoney. We have agents on the way to apprehend him." He said to her as he led her back to the group of agents. Gideon smiled at her, as did Morgan, who slightly shook his head.

Harold gestured to the group, "Underwood, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan, Special Agent Dr. Reid, Special Agent Elle Greenaway and Special Agent Jennifer Jareau." He introduced her. She shook all their hands, nodding to each of them, introducing herself as Rory Underwood.

"Who knew you were an undercover FBI agent?" Morgan laughed, crossing his arms. She smirked and watched as Reid raised his hand.

Smirking, Morgan grabbed it and pulled it down, "It was rhetorical, genius."

Everyone chuckled and Aurora crossed her arms, "He really did know. You've got one smart kid on your team here." She admitted, smiling at him. Nervously, he looked her in the eye for a split second and then over at Agent Jareau, turning pink.

Aurora followed his gaze towards the small, blonde beauty and smirked before turning to Gideon, "Jason, thank you for everything. For checking up on me and all that jazz." She sighed, shaking his hand. He smirked and nodded.

"No problem, Rory. Anytime."

Harold patted Aurora on the shoulder and let himself out the front door. Gideon dismissed the rest of the team, staying behind to talk to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and started to lead her out, his hold tight and comforting. Aurora pointed a group of forensics towards backstage and they promised they would grab her things for her.

"You did great Rory, Harold wasn't kidding."

"I know he wasn't. But it's better hearing it from you than from him. Thank you for coming to save the day." She laughed.

"I see your ego didn't get hurt because you couldn't finish it alone." He joked. She shook her head as he took her to her car and opened the driver side door for her.

She snorted and sat down in the seat, crossing her legs, shrugging, "I'm so tired, I didn't care if it was you or a gang of neighborhood watchmen. The job got done."

Chuckling, he knelt beside her and patted her knee, noticing something in her tone, "You feeling all right?"

"I feel fine! Just tired, like I said." She sighed.

For a moment, he eyed her. They waited in silence until an agent brought out her purse and street clothes that they had found, telling her they put her phone in her purse for her. She checked the bag and then smiled at Gideon, "My work here is done."

He stood up and nodded, "True but what are they going to do about the Hall? Will it be closed?"

"Nope. I've had enough time out here to stake out new management material. I've also made a friend or two…people I can trust to run this place just fine—minus the drugs and human trafficking. I just hope women aren't afraid to audition here after what those two girls had to almost endure." She muttered, looking over at the two German girls who were being placed in a cop car. She pressed her lips together and rummaged through her bag.

Silence fell over them and Gideon stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching her. "You feel guilty. That you couldn't save that Swedish girl from before." He said, kicking at a rock on the concrete, saying it nonchalantly like he could read her like a book.

She squinted up at him, "And you feel sorry for me, for watching me feel so guilty."

"It's normal to be feeling the way you are Rory." He muttered, sounding saddened by the fact.

"Yeah well that doesn't make it any less better." She admitted with a relinquished sigh, tossing her bag onto the passenger seat. Like the profiler he was, he had pinpointed how she felt. For something that had happened two or three months before, she felt as if it was her fault that the Swedish girl had been sold right under her nose. "The thing about this job is…I'm supposed to protect people and I lost one girl. One girl too many." She muttered somewhat carelessly, having come to terms with the knowledge from past-lost cases or victims. Being an FBI agent, one had to know that stuff like that was going to happen a lot.

He nodded, "you knew the consequences of even having this sort of job."

She smirked, "I know, Jas, your team aren't the only ones who can profile people. I chose this case myself…I chose that creep. I knew something was up and I was too slow to get the evidence before hand. What if he's been smuggling girls behind my back for the past couple months?"

"We'll never know until we get him into questioning. Everything will get figured out. This is where my team comes in. This is where my team pulls him apart from the inside out…to pick out all the parts of him that could lead him to want to do what he does." Gideon explained.

"He's right you know." Reid's quiet voice said from beside them. Aurora gasped and put her hand over her heart.

"Dr. Reid! You always manage to startle me." She chuckled.

He stepped forward, "He is coming into our custody. With our prior knowledge thanks to you, we can easily get to him and figure out the underlying reasons as to why he's selling women onto the black market, not to mention drugs as well. There must be some reason other than money, like childhood trauma or abuse."

Aurora nodded, "Thank you Dr. Reid."

Gideon stood up and motioned for Reid to go back to his car. Reid nodded and bowed his head to Aurora, "Good night Special Agent Underwood."

She smiled and bid him good night as he hurried away. Gideon kissed her temple.

"If you ever want to come by the BAU we could always use an extra hand. Maybe brush up on your profiler skills." He smirked.

Looking up at him with a tired smile, somewhat ignoring his offer. Contrary to what she had previously thought before joining the FBI, you can't just switch departments so easily. "Thanks for the offer Jas but I'll have to think about it."

Pulling her legs into her car, he shut the door for her and everyone drove their separate ways; Gideon back to the agency along with his team, and Aurora went home, truly thinking about his offer.

* * *

><p>The next morning arrived and Rory actually went into the FBI BAU, looking for Gideon to speak with him about what he had said the night before. His offer was too tempting and she lost sleep over it, because, maybe, becoming a profiler might help her be a better agent than she already is. Her reason was selfish, but everyone strives to be better.<p>

But how could she be better at something she had never done?

She couldn't find him anywhere, at least not in the bullpen area around the desks. Across the room was a door that was wide open, like someone was preparing to leave. She ignored it and trudged into the bullpen, almost bumping into a plump blonde woman wearing very colorful clothes.

"Oh I'm so sorry." The woman apologized.

"It's not your fault, it's all right." Rory smiled.

For a moment the woman just stared at her, then stuck out her hand, "Penelope Garcia, I work here at the BAU…I don't know if I'm allowed to but…do you need anything?"

"Special Agent Rory Underwood…just came to visit Jason Gideon. I even have a nice, shiny visitors badge." Rory smiled, pulling at the badge that dangled from her hip.

"Gideon? He's right there!" Garcia smiled, pointing over her shoulder at the open door. Right as Rory's eyes darted up to it, she saw him exiting with another agent, a very stoic, focused looking man. She thanked Garcia and chased after them as they exited through a set of double doors.

Rory had to jog to actually catch up with Agent Hotchner and Gideon, but she got to them just before the interrogation room. She jogged up behind them and appeared beside Gideon, who was too busy sticking his nose into a file with Hotchner, who was explaining the details to him.

"Both of his parents have since deceased, so he really has no family to contact as far as we know." Hotchner muttered pointing at the information listed on the file.

Gideon rubbed his chin, "No siblings? No aunts, uncles? Grandparents?"

"None that have been listed in the United States. Maybe his connection to all the girls he's selling is because he was born somewhere else. European girls, European decent." Hotchner suggested.

"Could be," Gideon admitted, "but Reid suggested last night that abuse could've been a part of it. Or trauma."

Raising her hand slightly, Rory stepped in front of them, "Or a predetermined mindset of his."

The two men looked up and Hotchner furrowed his brows, looking at her in a way that wasn't exactly confused, but a little bit offended. Gideon smirked to himself, crossing his arms. Hotchner stood up straight and shut the file. "May we help you?"

"So sorry, I'm Special Agent Rory Underwood, I worked undercover for this case." She said, reaching out and shaking his hand. He seemed to relax when she said she was a special agent. Gideon watched them carefully, his face looking a little prideful.

"Nice to meet you Special Agent Underwood."

Gideon quirked a brow at her, "By a predetermined mindset you mean?"

Rory sucked in a breath and looked between the two men, "You said he could be from Europe. Maybe someone in his family, when he was a young child, taught him that girls who dressed themselves to sell themselves in some way deserved to be punished."

"Religious upbringing, maybe. His family disapproved of prostitutes or red light districts." Gideon suggested.

Hotchner twisted his mouth and opened the file again, "That wouldn't explain him selling them to the black market."

"Maybe he learned more about profit once he got to the states and realized he could gain more from selling them instead of killing him. America makes people greedy." Rory said, quirking a brow.

"Or he probably couldn't stomach the idea of killing them. Couldn't handle it." Gideon shrugged.

Not wasting anytime, Hotch entered the interrogation room, Gideon migrating towards the observation room. They walked alongside one another, Rory and Gideon, almost making it to the door when Gideon muttered to her, "I knew you couldn't resist."

Rory tried to stay in step with him, "Can I watch with you guys?"

Gideon had to think for a moment. He nodded and opened the door, "I don't see why not."

Allowing her to walk inside first, Rory entered to see Special Agents Elle Greenaway, and Derek Morgan. They both looked over their shoulders to see Gideon leading Rory inside the room. Morgan smirked and nodded towards them.

"Welcome to the watch room, Aurora." He smiled.

"Please, call me Rory." She said quietly, sounding very passive. She thought about how many people she had to tell her name to the past twelve hours while she was walking up beside him and pressing her hands into her pockets.

"Where's Reid?" Elle asked Gideon. He just shrugged.

"Garcia said he was here."

Just then, when Hotch finally started talking with the manager, the door to the observation room opened and Reid slunk inside, quietly closing the door behind him. They all just stared at him, hoping he'd feel their eyes digging into his back. Not looking where he was going though, Reid turned around and smacked into Rory, conking foreheads with her.

Everyone reacted differently; Gideon carefully pinched the bridge of his nose, Elle just shut her eyes in frustration, and Morgan just rolled his eyes trying not to laugh. Rory gasped and grabbed her forehead while Reid whined and poked at his own forehead.

"So sorry, I—Agent Underwood!" he said in surprise, opening one eye, still cringing in pain.

"Hi Dr. Reid." She muttered blinking away the pain. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it and awkwardly shifted to watch the interrogation.

Tuning into what Hotch was saying, they all saw him sitting calmly across from the manager. Nothing really big was happening. The manager was listening to Hotch explain to him what they had on him and what they were guessing was his deal. When all was said and done, Hotch closed the file and intertwined his fingers before him, cocking his head to the side. He asked the manager where he had come from.

The manager smirked and all of the agents in the observation room seemed to step closer to the window. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Raten Sie mal. Nicht einmal, wie ich spreche, wird es weggeben."

No one said anything, but everyone was thinking. Hotch stayed quiet for a moment, probably glaring at him, trying to silently piece things together in his head.

"He was speaking German. Dead give away." Morgan shrugged, crossing his arms. But his furrowing brows and apparent frown gave away that he knew there was more to that.

Reid looked at the group around him, "Maybe its not how he's saying it, but what he's saying. German is a very wide spread language over in Europe, especially after World War II; countries such as Austria, Luxembourg, and Switzerland have a large population with majorities that speak German mainly because of the common Roman Catholic faith."

Carefully, Gideon poked Rory's elbow. She whipped her head around to look at him, her face deep in concentration. Like Hotch, she was trying to think about what he was saying.

Over her years in school and for recreational purpose, she learned many languages and spoke them very brokenly. Only a few languages could really slip off of her tongue with ease, but German wasn't one of them.

"Did you catch what he said?" Gideon asked. Rory pressed her lips together and looked back at the manager and Hotch.

Hotch's voice came over the intercom, asking the manager to repeat himself, like he had planned on the team writing it down.

"Meine Ohren hören, denn ich bin kein Beethoven, nein, sondern ein Mozart." The manager said in a whisper, leaning forward to hiss through his teeth.

"He changed what he said." Elle grumbled, shifting her weight and turning to Gideon.

"He mentioned Beethoven—maybe he _is_ from Germany." Morgan brought up, pointing at Reid for some reason. Reid opened his mouth to speak but Rory narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth first.

"But he also mentioned Mozart. _He_ was born in Salzburg which would now be in present day Austria." She muttered.

Elle shrugged, "They both speak German, so he could be from Germany or from Austria. And now we have that narrowed down, what else did he say?"

Rory cringed and started twiddling her fingers next to her ears, "Something—something about listening…"

"Beethoven was deaf. Maybe he's comparing the two." Reid chimed in.

"Why compare them at a time like this." Gideon mumbled, talking to himself.

"No…he's narrowing it down further. Bin kein basically means 'not', so he's saying he's not like Beethoven—because he can hear?" Rory questioned.

"Exactly. So because he can hear, that's how he's Mozart, not Beethoven." Reid nodded, looking to Gideon.

"So you're from Austria." Hotch suddenly said, and they all turned to stare at the manager and Hotch. The manager smirked.

"Very good, special agent."

"Oh he _is_ good." Rory muttered.

Hotch planted his feet onto the ground, firmly, "Did you grow up around Vienna?"

"Yes I did." The manager nodded.

There was silence. Hotch sucked in a deep breath, "What was it like…having to pass the red light district there?"

"The red light district." The manager repeated. "You think because I lived in a city with a red light district that I would sell women? Because it got me off? And you call yourself a profiler."

"That is why you're here, speaking with me. We can figure this all out with your cooperation." Hotch muttered, examining him.

A devilish smile appeared on the manager's face, shadowed by the light as he leaned forward onto the table, "Sleeping Beauty put you up to this. She thinks that because I've only sold European girls on the market, that I have some sort of sick, twisted fetish for watching them being auctioned off."

"And is she right?" Hotch asked without hesitation.

The manager paused. His smile dropped, "Only slightly."

Rory shifted her weight and clenched her jaw. The bastard was teasing her. From beside her, she could feel Reid's eyes boring into her, but she didn't acknowledge it. The manager leaned back in his chair.

"If only slightly, then what about this whole situation are you keeping from us? Are you just willing to sell any woman?"

They waited for the response on baited breath, "I do only sell European women—_immediately_. Otherwise…after a little proper tuning up, dance rehearsals, make over…I will sell other women."

"I see." Hotch muttered, writing it down in the file.

The manager smirked, "Sleeping Beauty caught me just in time, you know. Within the next two weeks I was preparing to pull her away and sell her off."

Laughter crammed into their ears and Rory gritted her teeth, "he's lying."

"How can you be sure?" Morgan asked, eyeing her, like it was more of a test that he knew the answer to.

Reid shook his head, "No, she's right. He saw how Gideon and I came to Underwoods aid last night and expects that if he torments her, he could push Hotch's buttons. Look," he pointed, "he's playing with his rings. He's anticipating Hotch losing his cool."

"But he wont, because he barely knows me. He just met me about five minutes ago."

Hotch shut the file, "I understand that you must've had a rough childhood. Growing up in a strict Roman Catholic family, devoted to God, living not too far from a street draped in Satan's vermin. I believe that you would be quick to sell Agent Underwood; she is a very talented woman, very beautiful. With your work, she would be easy to sell for a lot of money on the market. But she's not like European women. The only European women you ever knew were your Grandmother, your mother, maybe an aunt or two…"

"Yes, and?" the manager snapped slightly, glaring at Hotch.

"Those women are the pictures you have of European women. Your family taught you that. But you moved to America before you could peek the age of hormonal acceptance and couldn't get that bad taste of red district harlots out of your head. They were rats weren't they?" Hotch asked, standing up and pacing around the room.

The observation room grew tense and Rory bit her lip, watching the situation at hand go down.

"Filthy…Satan worshipping rats…Forever cemented into your brain as the scum of the earth. But God taught you one thing your parents didn't… "Do not repay evil with evil", Peter 3:9. And so…because he taught you violence was bad, and maybe you were just enlightened on the world of business…you decided the green was better than the red. Sell the beauties. Sell the rats. Am I right?" Hotch described, leaning down to speak right next to his ear.

The manager just sat there frozen. Hotch stood up and stared down at him, "You don't like blood do you. Is that it? The sight of blood make you queasy?"

Silence.

"Besides, all the money you get, you can use to buy drugs—which you know Americans love. Sell that all around and gather up enough money to last your lifetime." Hotch laughed. He rubbed his fingers together in front of the manager's face, "But supply and demand called upon you again. Over and over again, you get dirty money."

"Mein Geld ist schmutzig, aber nicht so schmutzig wie diese Huren gab ich weg. Sie haben verdient durch jemand anderen als mich geschlachtet werden." The manager hissed, his voice shaking.

Elle set her hands on her hips, "He's angering him."

"What did he say?" Gideon asked, touching Rory's elbow.

"That…his money is dirty…but not as dirty as the whores he sold. They deserved to be killed by someone other than him." She sighed.

"Confirms that he didn't want the blood on his own hands." Morgan shrugs.

"I think he means on his hands figuratively. Hotch must've been right about him hating blood." Reid muttered, crossing his arms.

Rory sighed and ran her hand through her hair as Hotch started speaking again. Gideon touched her shoulder, "Go get some air."

"I'm fine—"

"Reid, take her out into the hallway."

Awkwardly, Reid placed his hand between her shoulder blades and led her out into the hallway. She stepped out and walked across the hall to lean against the wall, running both her hands through her hair. The tension in that room had gotten to her, and hearing all these odd, sick things about her former manager—it made her feel horrible inside. Reid stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

"I don't get it." Rory muttered. Reid looked up at her. "I just don't get it. Maybe he's just sick…why can't we just put him away. Why does he need to tease us?"

"This is sort of like his psych evaluation, which is why Hotch is doing it. We know he's done it, but people want to know why. That's where we come in." Reid muttered, kicking the waxed floor. She shook her head.

"I can't imagine how you do it. Pushing your brains that hard to figure out one person that you barely even know. But you're good at what you do, so I have to give you that."

Reid smiled and nodded, "You're…you're not too bad yourself."

Breathily, she let out a laugh and shook her head, shutting her eyes gingerly, "I'm just an undercover FBI agent. Ordinary."

"You don't…have to be." He sort of chuckled, hesitantly saying it like he wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not. He didn't want to push anyone's buttons.

Carefully, she leaned her head against the wall and squinted at the boy she barely knew. Was he basically making the offer Gideon had given her the night before? Maybe it was a sign.

"I don't know how to profile."

Reid stepped towards her, "'I don't' and 'I can't' are phrases people like to use when they think they aren't good for anything. You can be good at anything if you want to. Someone wise once told me, when he first hired me, it doesn't matter if you do not know how to completely do something now…what matters is that you learn how to do it better."

Her eyes softened; Gideon had said that. He had said that to her too when he first met her.

"…Who do I need to speak to?"


End file.
